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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885873">Thicker than Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dichotomous_Dragon/pseuds/Dichotomous_Dragon'>Dichotomous_Dragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Halward Pavus Being an Asshole, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, M/M, One Big Happy Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dichotomous_Dragon/pseuds/Dichotomous_Dragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian came to with a crick in his neck and a headache like pounding dwarven hammers. </p>
<p>“I believe I gave you express instructions not to hit him in the head,” a familiar, acidic voice droned, and bile crawled up Dorian’s throat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Actually Adoribull Fic, The Adoribull Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hardly Dashing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae_C/gifts">Shae_C</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ABB 2020! </p>
<p>Goodness, this one was a struggle. What WASN'T a struggle was working with the fabulous <a href="http://apudpir8.tumblr.com/">Apu</a>! on this fic. Could not ask for a better Big Bang partner!! Many thanks to Apu and to <a href="http://cyber-fairie.tumblr.com/">CyberFairie</a> for editing when my ability to get my brain in gear (for many weeks in a row) took a complete nosedive, I would have been lost without them!</p>
<p>This fic was born from an RP/riff session that the wonderful Shae got me started on years ago....with a significant overhaul so the fic would not be 50k+ :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A dashing, dark-skinned man in his early thirties hummed a tune under his breath, his crisp-pressed white shirt’s sleeves rolled to ruin at his elbows. He should have been somewhere stuffy and important, living up to expectations and the fullest of his potential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, there was nothing dashing about his current situation. Nothing fancy nor high society; nothing that stank of the old money in his accounts or the prestige of the blood in his veins. Here he stood, purest of the purebred, chopping vegetables on an old bamboo cutting board with a cat-paw decal worn smooth on one corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was downright </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the domesticity of the task, there was a sly curl to his full lips to match the gentle warmth in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door opening made the same creak it always did, old hinges protesting the swing of the heavy wooden door. ‘Character’ Bull had called it, and refused to oil them. Dorian, in the kitchen, felt a full, fond smile tug at his lips at the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fascinating, that. A year ago the sound would have made him quip vitriol about shoddy quality and Ferelden barbarism. Now here he stood, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a simple silver band a gleaming promise on one finger, chopping an onion and grinning like a fool. At least no one could see him doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess who’s home,” Bull called, the same as he did every day. He was still rattling around in the front entryway, following his pattern. He’d toe off his shoes and tuck them away. Adjust his brace. Hang up his coat if he’d worn one and stow his keys and blazer. Stash the ridiculous pink umbrella he often carried “just in case.” Pick up the mail and bring it into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could guess,” Dorian replied, slicing the last of the onion and sliding it into the bowl, “but I fear wasting my substantial talent. I am ever so fully occupied now, you see.” A huffed laugh drifted to him and Dorian smirked to himself. He’d just replaced the cutting board and was reaching for a bundle of greens when Bull padded around the corner and into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull looked hearty and no less whole than he’d left that morning. His white button down (damn him for looking even better than Dorian in white!) was unmarred, the leather harness resting familiarly across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders. His .45 rested in its holster, tucked beneath Bull’s left arm. No new cuts or bruises, scuffs or other signs of it having been a particularly dangerous day for his detective. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something uncoiled in Dorian’s gut and he relaxed. Bull paused long enough at the threshold to let Dorian finish his assessment, seeming to wait for that softening before closing the distance between them, dropping the small stack of mail on the end of the counter. Dorian hummed his appreciation as Bull closed the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire thing was painfully domestic and Dorian despised it as much as he did the miserable, meaningful kiss Bull gave him the moment he was close enough to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything exciting today, Amatus?” Dorian asked, smiling as Bull stepped behind him and wrapped his hands around Dorian’s waist. The heat of him was obvious even through both their clothes and Dorian caught his breath hitching on a contented sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Other than matching shirts with my favorite guy? Nope,” Bull answered, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of Dorian’s head as he resumed chopping. “Pretty quiet today, mostly wrapping up paperwork from old cases. Not a bad thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull drew a deep breath before sighing, resting his chin on Dorian’s head. Dorian responded with an affronted, smothered noise but didn’t move. Bull, as ever, was conscious about his size and didn’t drop too much weight on or against him. “What’s cooking, Kadan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian’s lips quirked. Reaching across the counter, he retrieved a brown paper bag and unrolled the top, lifting it over his own head for Bull’s inspection. Without moving, Bull took a deep inhale and loosed a surprised sound shortly thereafter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s got some northern heat to it,” he grunted appreciatively. He took a second sniff, obviously savoring the intensity of the scent. “Someone went down to Dalish’s this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chillies she set aside specifically for you,” Dorian informed him, “and said I should use them as quickly as possible as it’s best when fresh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Set aside for us,” Bull corrected automatically. “You know she likes you. Ever since you started giving her advice on her arrows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian made a noise that was half exasperation, half well-tread pageantry. “I will still never understand why an herbalist purports to be an archer. It makes her sound even crazier than calling herself an herbalist in this day and age.”  Even as he grumbled it Dorian knew he was still smiling. Bull’s friends had only tolerated him at first, he’d been convinced of that, but in the months they had been together he had forged his own friendships with them. Dalish, living as a mage in a country that was not so tolerant, had glommed on to Dorian more quickly than most because she’d been thrilled to learn new tricks. Her own training had been piecemeal at best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you, Kadan? How was work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know Clarence. Nothing perturbs him in the slightest. I swear he has Andraste’s own patience, though it was a quiet day for us as well. Nothing violent or otherwise dastardly so the spirits lingering around the office weren’t unpleasant ones. Mind handing me the baking sheet?” Bull moved to retrieve it as Dorian finished with the greens and tipped them into the bowl, reaching again for the paper bag. When the chillies were rolled out onto the baking sheet Bull’s eye lit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roasting the chillies...are you making laal maas?” Bull asked brightly. Dorian had to laugh at excitement putting the twinkle in Bull’s eye, even though he shared it. Mutual longing for the food of their homelands had been one topic on which the two of them had initially bonded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. I smelled those chillies and couldn’t resist. Found a recipe online that hasn’t proven too difficult to follow, either. Even for me,” he said, a fond smile on his face as he recalled the intense heat of the dish. “It was a rare treat growing up, even though it was one of Mother’s favorites…” The smile on his face soured, consumed by a flood of emotions. As surely as the tides followed the moon, just thinking his mother’s name all but choked him with a hundred things Dorian neither wanted to feel nor cared to process. It was behind him - </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were behind him - just as Tevinter and everything that had happened before he’d…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian cleared his throat, chin dipping to his chest as he physically shook off the smothering influence of his parents’ memory. Bull had fallen still behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I thought to give it a try,” Dorian said as lightly as he could manage, shaking himself one more time and resuming his work on the array of small, spicy chillies. He gave Bull a weak smile over one shoulder. “I’m glad you’re excited. Hopefully I won’t misstep too badly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull’s soft, lopsided smile nearly broke him. Those big hands settled, a comforting weight on Dorian’s shoulders. Grounding him, reminding him of where he was and - more importantly - where he wasn’t. “You’ve got this, Kadan. Don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Dorian doubted he was speaking only of the chillies. Fondness clouded out the darker things roiling in his mind and Dorian grabbed one of the harness’s loops, tugging Bull towards him. Bull acquiesced and bent to kiss him, humming against his lips. Dorian let himself drift, lost in the scent and closeness and sheer presence of Bull, equal parts gentle and huge, using that comforting familiarity to banish the tumult in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have to admit,” Bull muttered, breaking the kiss after what felt like an age. He stayed close, so close his breath tickled Dorian’s ear, “Good as this smells a meal wasn’t the first thing on my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely you can survive this wounding to your planned events? I am after all notoriously difficult,” Dorian retorted, tracing one long finger down the buttons on Bull’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess it’s a good thing I like a challenge then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian huffed and pushed him back; Bull, compliant, let him do it. “You can </span>
  <em>
    <span>challenge</span>
  </em>
  <span> me all you like after you’ve showered, Amatus,” and oh, the predatory curl to Bull’s lips set heat curling up from the base of Dorian’s gut. Clever teeth nipped at the lobe of Dorian’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just going to get dirty again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, but that makes the cleaning all the more entertaining afterwards, hmm? To know that we’ve earned it?” Bull’s approving chuckle rumbled up from his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna hold you to that you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had better,” Dorian scolded, shooing him out so he could focus and finish his preparations for dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Bull gone, the last of the prep didn’t take Dorian long, getting the rest of the vegetables and spices for the sauce and the lamb ready once it had simmered. As he dusted his hands clean of the coriander powder, Dorian ventured to the small pile of mail. A bill, a couple junk mailers, and a copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cat Fancy</span>
  </em>
  <span> that had him rolling his eyes at the absurdity of his lover were all expected. The simple paper envelope addressed to him was not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian did not notice that the envelope had no actual addresses on it - not for shipping nor a return address at the top, but he presumed that was because Bull had brought it home or had gotten him a card of some sort.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You do not belong here, Dorian Pavus. What you are, what you came from? You have no business in the South. Go back now or you won’t like the consequences.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not from Bull, then, nor from anyone they considered worth knowing. Fereldens were not fond of him, that was true, but Dorian kept to himself and was generally left alone. The people in places he frequented were used to seeing him. He hadn’t expected this sort of nonsense to rear up today and it soured his mood completely. Fury roiled up from his gut, his mana fizzling beneathe his skin in answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. There was one cure for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian snarled in disgust and held the letter over the sink. With a thought, flames curled out from his palm and licked at the paper’s edges, catching it alight all but instantly. Dropping it, he watched the flames blacken and obscur the hateful words. Doing the magic without a focus made his fingers and palm prickle at the heat. The discomfort married well with his anger that someone had the nerve to... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No hateful bastard was going to ruin what was otherwise shaping up to be a perfectly pleasant evening. Fuck them for presuming to know anything about who he was or where he belonged. Turning his sauce down to simmer Dorian shook his hand out and stalked off down the hall, fully decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting well and truly filthy sounded wonderful just then. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Unexpected Attack & An Odd Request</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tiny humans ahead<br/>Also: sassy 'Vints being sassy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maker but the grocery store was busy today. Somehow Dorian had come at just the wrong time. Every harried young parent with two or more screaming children had decided now to be the best time to have shouting matches about which cereal was best for fifteen minutes at a time. Dorian sighed and weaved through them, feeling a headache begin to grow in his temples.</p><p>He’d made it to the canned goods - the last thing he needed - and had begun perusing the greens when something small and bony ploughed into the back of his knees, buckling him against the shelf.</p><p>“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian hissed as cans displaced by his arms clattered to the floor. A sniffle shifted into a whine that immediately rose into a shriek. Dorian righted himself in time to see a young boy - four years old? Three? - staring up at him from the floor, wide eyes welling with tears. “Now, now, none of that. Everything is fine, see?” Unfortunately as Dorian straightened several more cans toppled from the shelf and toppled to the floor, clattering loudly all around the boy. </p><p>Startled, the lad started sobbing in earnest, big fat tears and open mouth, yowl and all. Dorian glanced down both sides of the aisle, desperate to find the child’s parents. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark letterman jacket was pointedly ignoring the scene at the other end of the row. Given his rather brusque lack of interest, the boy wasn’t his. </p><p>Dorian was on his own.</p><p>“Well then.” He huffed, gently setting his shopping basket down on the worn white tiles. He slipped one hand into his pocket and found his focus stone, rubbing the familiar edges. “Look up,” he whispered harshly. As intended the sharp tone startled the boy into opening his eyes. Dorian’s fingers were already in motion, drawing a gently glittering line in the air. The boy immediately fell silent, transfixed by the colorful mana lines. When Dorian glanced to his side to make sure he’d not be caught, the man in the jacket had gone. They were alone and better still, the young boy was well and truly distracted by Dorian’s light show.</p><p>“There now, much better. Up you get.” Dorian lifted the boy to his feet and he went willingly, still staring at the twisting color that followed Dorian’s fingers.</p><p>“Whoa,” he whispered, batting at the magic. The flourishes dispelled as he reached for them. Dorian couldn’t help his grin.</p><p>“Very impressive isn’t it?” He flicked his wrist and made a butterfly just above where the child could reach. It flapped its gossamer wings twice before poofing into a shower of tiny stars that dissipated as they showered down over the lad’s head. “You’re quite a good audience you know.” The boy grinned, pleased.</p><p>“Jaxson!” A young man with an armful of a baby rounded the end of the aisle at a jog, skidding to a stop and nearly falling shoulder first into the end cap. His face was flushed and his eyes widened when they fell on Dorian and the boy, who had turned at the call. Dorian let the magic fade before it could be noticed. “Jaxson! There you are!” The blond man rushed down to them, bouncing the infant in his arms to keep her happy. She was burbling and babbling cheerfully, oblivious to her father’s obvious distress. “Maker, thank you.”</p><p>“It was no trouble,” Dorian assured him, a bit surprised to find that he meant it. The little boy kept staring at him, watching Dorian’s hands expectantly, even as his father took his own and started to lead him away. He tugged back, watching Dorian over his shoulder. </p><p>Dorian made a flourish and pointed; all the cans from the floor of the aisle righted themselves back on their shelves. He held his finger up to his lips, almost laughing outright at the gape-mouthed expression on the child’s face.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Satisfied, he retrieved his basket and headed for the checkout just as his phone rang. Seeing the number, he smiled to himself and answered the call in Tevene.</p><p>“<em> Good day, Cremissius.” </em> He used the formal version of the greeting for the simple satisfaction of Krem’s amused snort floating through the speaker.</p><p>“Asshole,” Krem muttered in Common, which was close enough for hello. “Where are you?”</p><p>“Currently?” Dorian flipped to Common as well. “I am doing a reasonable impression of a jerk on his phone in the check-out line. Many apologies, incidentally,” he said the last to the cashier, whose expression took on a much friendlier bent at the acknowledgment of his rudeness. The corner of her lip tugged up, even. When she caught Dorian’s eye again he winked and managed to draw out a full-blown smile from her. “Why?”</p><p>“You should swing past Rocky’s on your way home,” Krem advised. Dorian could hear the low murmur of speaking voices and smooth jazz so very emblematic of Rocky’s cafe. “If you hurry you might be able to surprise a certain knucklehead.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Krem said. His voice dipped a little as he added, “Might be a good day for it, too. Just saying.”</p><p>Well, that didn’t sound promising. Before Dorian could probe further, Krem muttered an aborted goodbye and hung up, which Dorian took to mean that Bull had wandered back into earshot. Dorian himself had to get to wandering if he was to make it in time. Pensive, he stuffed his phone in his pocket and thanked the cashier again for putting up with him as he paid. He shuffled his shopping bags and took off for Rocky’s.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes and one near-traffic-accident later, Dorian pulled into the small lot behind The Powdered Keg which, despite its somewhat misleading name, served the best coffee in town. The donuts to which the powder alluded were pretty good, too. It was a decently sized brick building nestled on the corner of a line of them, quintessential downtown Ferelden had it been sixty years earlier. Their town had hung on through the staunch support of people who rallied to buy local and ignored the big box stores. </p><p>The cafe itself was brick and glass, stocked full of mismatched chairs and cute little tables just large enough for a latte and a laptop. The place was consistently packed through a mixture of good coffee and good service. Rocky hired his employees as mismatched and quirky as the Chargers, and he took care of them. They in turn took care of the customers and everything rather just clicked.</p><p>One such customer was sitting alongside his self-proclaimed “other favorite ‘Vint” and indeed, was pounding Krem’s shoulder harder than was strictly necessary. Dorian could see Krem’s smirk from the doorway even as he watched Bull’s face light up.</p><p>“You sneaky shit,” Dorian heard Bull mutter in the three seconds he had free before Bull was on his feet. The Qunari swept Dorian back into a kiss dramatic enough to make the baristas whistle. He even managed to palm the grocery bag so as to not topple them in the display. “Good to see you Kadan,” Bull murmured against his ear. </p><p>“Long day?” Dorian asked, as lightly as he could. </p><p>Bull groused noncommittally and released Dorian, making sure of his balance before letting the smaller man go. He kept hold of one of Dorian’s hands with no care to who saw. “You know how it is.”</p><p>“I do.” Dorian brought Bull’s mangled hand to his lips. “But seeing you in the middle of it tends to help.</p><p>Bull’s smile was saccharine and entirely too fond. “Yeah, it does. I-” the ringing of his phone cut him off and Bull’s face fell. “Gotta take this.”</p><p>“Go on then,” Dorian smiled as bravely as he could. Whatever the case was, it had Bull in knots. Bull nodded, already lifting the device and weaving his way through the rest of the patrons. Dorian opted to wave at Krem and got in line, but was immediately waved away by the very short barista running the cash register.</p><p>“Krem gave me your usual order, I’ll have it out in just a sec,” she called, shooing Dorian out of the way so she could serve the people behind.</p><p>Dorian spared a glance out the window at Bull on his phone, head ducked as spoke. The lines of his body were rigid.</p><p>“Might be a challenging one,” Krem muttered as Dorian came to stand beside him. </p><p>“Did he say...?”</p><p>Krem shook his head. “You know him, he never does. Hopefully it all works out.” A brief whistle caught both men’s attention and Dorian saw it was the Barista, already hustling towards them. When the girl who stepped out from behind the counter Dorian noted that she stood shorter than Krem’s sternum. She had a mess of short brown hair and a wicked smile that widened when she turned both to Krem and Dorian with the latter’s order.</p><p>“One latte with four extra shots of espresso and enough vanilla syrup to choke a cat,” she entoned flatly, reciting Rocky’s favorite butchering of Dorian’s normal order. She handed a tall to-go cup to Dorian. Krem smirked while Dorian himself barked a laugh while dramatically clutching his wounded heart with his free hand. “My my, you are a feisty one. It’s only two pumps! I’m ever so offended.” He slipped her a tip for the extra service and added “I can see now why Rocky likes you.”</p><p>“Thanks!” The girl winked and retorted “-and I can see why Horns likes <em> you. </em>He’s always had a thing for sass,” she nodded at Krem, “and you’re pretty to boot.” She grinned as she headed back behind the counter while Krem smothered a snicker at Dorian’s suddenly dark cheeks.</p><p>“Can’t handle a compliment from the barista, Pavus? You’re slipping.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Dorian huffed, lifting his nose to the proper height for effecting his heritage. He switched to Tevene and added “<em> I am simply unused to these Southern louts having proper respect for my beauty and magnificence. </em> Besides,” he flipped back to Common, “She is more your type than mine, no? She seems to have your measure in any case.”</p><p>Krem spluttered. His flirtations with Lace Harding were the worst kept secret in the Chargers. The fiery red headed woman was another of the counsellors at the teen center where he worked. Harding had even come out drinking with them and all four-feet-something of her was as quick as her wit. While Dorian could not see Bull’s oldest friend wavering from Lace’s side the opportunity to tease was too perfect.</p><p>“Bree’s well enough,” Krem said, finally recovered, “but I’m otherwise occupied. Besides, I’ve met her step-sister. That chick is scary. Kinda hot too, but she’ll knock you out if you even look at Bree funny, trust me.” He shuddered a little; Dorian laughed.</p><p>Bull chose that exact moment to sweep back up behind them, throwing an arm around Dorian’s waist and clapping Krem on the shoulder just hard enough to make him wobble.</p><p>“I’m sad I missed whatever put that look on Krempuff’s face,” he told them, “but duty calls.” He pressed a kiss to Dorian’s hair. “Sorry I have to go when you came all this way, Kadan.”</p><p>“It’s alright, Amatus,” Dorian hummed, turning his face up for a proper kiss, “the company is serviceable enough, I suppose.” Krem pantomimed barfing noises and Dorian gave him the finger and a wink in response. Bull grinned.</p><p>“Glad to see my two favorite ‘Vints getting along. Stay out of trouble you two,” and with that Bull was gone, holding the door for a big man in a dark jacket as he hustled off to his car.</p><p>“Guess I took too long,” Dorian sighed as he watched the Qunari leave.</p><p>“Nah, this actually works out,” Krem amended. “I wanted to talk to you about Bull.” He gestured for Dorian to follow as he swapped seats, freeing the table to instead descend on the two big wingback chairs in the back corner of the room.</p><p>“I’m all ears,” Dorian told him, approving. Of all the seats these were his personal favorite but the backs weren’t wide enough to accommodate Bull’s horns. They settled in and Krem fell silent, pondering, watching, possibly waiting for the words to assemble themselves if his pinched expression was any indication. </p><p>In what Dorian had long since realized was his norm, Krem lept right to the heart of the matter. “So you know Bull lost the eye because of me.” It wasn’t a question. Dorian sat a bit straighter and crossed his ankles, allowing himself a thoughtful sip before answering.</p><p>“I have heard that story, yes.”</p><p>“Every year we celebrate it.” Dorian raised an eyebrow at that and Krem rolled his eyes. “Not the fact that the big idiot got hurt, obviously. The...forming of the friendship, I guess.” Dorian fluttered his hand in a <em> go on </em> motion. “We usually go to the same bar with the Chargers, get pissed, and stumble home. Thought this year we might go for something different though since you’re around.”</p><p>The next sip Dorian took was to cover a sudden bit of tightness in his throat. Affecting his lightest tone he asked “Oh?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was Dalish’s idea. You know she has that warehouse outside of town where she stores her extra supplies for the store? There’s actually a space out back. Gazebo, fire pit, decent bit of yard the owner used to use I guess. Thought that might be nice.”</p><p>“But…?”</p><p>“I’m asking you because you’re fucking picky,” Krem groused before adding, “but that surprise party we did for Dalish went well and you did a lot of the work. So, I’m asking you, Pavus. Do you want to help or what?” Dorian had avoided his surname when he’d first come South. Practical reasons, mostly, but there hung a sharp sort of sourness around the previous point of pride. Southerners all but spat the name, recognizing it for what it was: the surname of a well-to-do noble house from a country they hated.</p><p>There was no spite when Krem said it and he had more reason than most to be bitter. Aclassi, after all. His own reasons for fleeing were no less unsavory by Tevinter’s standards than Dorian’s. It was the same reason Dorian kept to Krem’s full, formal name most of the time. Not to taunt or tease but to reclaim something that was rightfully his that their homeland had twisted. </p><p>It also said something about the importance of Bull and his rag-tag bunch of weird, adopted ducklings that Dorian hardly had to ponder his answer. </p><p>“I’m in.” He thought for a moment. “Bull has training the day after tomorrow, you could come by early afternoon if you’re free? We can get through the specifics with enough time to plan. The anniversary is…?”</p><p>“Two weeks out from the end of the week,” Krem was nodding, running through logistics in his head. “You and I can parse it out.” He stopped talking, taking a long and searching look around the room. Packed as it was with milling, mumbling bodies of people engrossed in conversation or their cell phones, no one was paying them any mind. Dorian understood Krem’s caution, though. They both knew Bull had eyes and ears everywhere, even ones that might ruin something as innocuous as a surprise. </p><p>“Tomorrow then.” Dorian clapped Krem on the shoulder and rose. “I should get these items home before they thaw. <em> Goodbye, Cremissius.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Later, Pavus.” </em>
</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Memories and Best-Laid Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for blood and some drama in this one, kiddos. </p><p>Also, sass. So much sass.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pressed against the side of Bull’s old truck was not the way Dorian had planned to conclude the evening. Had he his druthers, he’d have had Bull to himself somewhere more private - somewhere without clothing, as they’d done before. It felt a bit silly to have a “proper, fancy date” - as Bull called it - when the two of them had been fucking to great aplomb for months now.</p><p>Bull’s tie was <em> pink </em>, for Maker’s sake.</p><p>Still, his dark blazer fit his broad shoulders very nicely and, while clearly not new, the garment had the feel of one that had been well worn and well cared for. Bull did not, Dorian had learned, do anything by halves. Dorian had expected Bull’s idea of a romantic date to be a nice dinner, certainly, then perhaps drinks at the dive bar he and the Chargers frequented, but no. Bull had driven them to the Chateau, the nicest restaurant in town.  Upscale, private tables...the ambiance was so high-class and so familiar that Dorian forgot himself for a moment. Between the string quartet playing quietly in the corner, the true decadence of the state of the trappings on the walls, the exorbitant average costs of the outfits on the guests around them...he could easily have been in Tevinter, had he not been sitting across the table from a massive Tal-Vashoth Qunari. </p><p>Bull himself proved a delightful surprise. When Dorian gave his leave, Bull ordered for the both of them in perfect Orlesian. Their waiter went from subtly looking down his nose at the pair of them to eyeing Bull with startled respect. They’d then proceeded to discuss everything from the state of the weather and the lack of proper spice to the work they did now and before, hitting a number of topics in between. All throughout Dorian could not help being amazed at how versatile Bull was and - to Dorian’s lingering discomfort - how very civilized Bull was when compared to most people Dorian had known.</p><p>To make matters worse, by the time dessert showed up Dorian had slid his chair around the table to mooch from Bull’s (fancy dessert) and to his dismay, Bull not only was happy to share but spoonfed Dorian whatever bites he wished. <em> Spoon </em> fed him in <em> public, </em>like they were a couple of horny teenagers in a movie. To the Fade with him if it hadn’t been one of the most wonderful evenings Dorian could ever remember, though, and the weight of Bull’s attention had been settled comfortably over him - and only him - all evening.</p><p>A well-placed nip from Bull brought Dorian’s attention back to the present; to the cool metal at his back and Bull’s heat at his front. Bull had one huge hand curled protectively to the back of Dorian’s head to spare him from hitting himself on the door of Bull’s old truck. The gesture was painfully sweet. </p><p>“There you are,” Bull rumbled. This close, Dorian could feel his voice rolling up from Bull’s chest like far-off thunder. “I lost you for a second.” His thumb traced the line of Dorian’s jaw. Dorian hummed, leaning into the calloused comfort of that palm. “Did you go somewhere good?”</p><p>“Just musing on what a spectacular job you’ve done tonight, frankly” he admitted. It had been...nice. More than nice. It had been something that Dorian had already realized he would be cherishing for quite some time. More monumental still, he’d realized he was about to tell Bull as much.</p><p>The scene devolved before he had the chance.</p><p>Bull went rigid, ignoring Dorian’s comment in a way Dorian was certain he would not normally have done. He realized with a jolt that they were no longer alone. A man in dark clothing had slunk up on them from somewhere and was standing far too close for friendly purposes. He did not have the tipsy countenance of a drunk or the hesitancy of someone asking for a light, or for directions. </p><p>There was a growl, an order - demanding and vaguely threatening, for some reason Dorian’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t make out the words - but by the time Bull started to turn to face the man behind him, Dorian had caught sight of the pistol raising to fire.</p><p>Magic cast without a focus was inelegant. Caught in the split second he had to act, the defensive shield Dorian threw up in front of Bull was less the skin-molded barrier of the spell’s original intent and more an amorphous cloud hewn from Dorian’s will and little else. He dumped too much power into the spell, losing his grip all but instantly as the magic took shape, flaring between Bull and their attacker like a flash-bang. Staggered from the effort, Dorian blinked blinding blue light from his vision as the sharp crack of a gunshot sounded… followed by a wordless, wounded cry of agony. </p><p>“Bull!” Dorian reached for the man but Bull listed forward - falling? Collapsing? Dorian couldn’t see, couldn’t tell anything from his place behind Bull’s back, still half deaf from the proximity of the gunshot and the overkill of the spell.</p><p>He half turned, trying to look for help. He didn’t see the second man on his right until the moment he fired.</p><p>Two hammer-beats pounded home against the left side of Dorian’s chest - one just below his ribcage, the other just above his heart - slamming him back against the side of Bull’s truck. His legs folded; he had enough time to choke, to feel the blood well into his mouth before the pain hit. </p><p>As Dorian fell Bull spun, recovering from his lunge to whirl and face the second attacker. Two more gunshots rang out in rapid succession and Dorian’s attacker crumpled to the asphalt, blood fanning out around him, dark red against darker black. Bull rushed to kick the gun out of the fallen man’s hand before pivoting back. He was on his knees so fast it looked as though he’d fallen.</p><p>“Dorian...”</p><p>Dorian turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood to join his own expanding spread. He smiled up at Bull, all the more disconcerting for the blood on his teeth.</p><p>“You’re not hurt?”</p><p>“No, Kadan. I’m fine.” The Qunlat was new. So was the stricken look on Bull’s face. He bore Dorian down to lie flat on the parking lot, struggling out of his blazer immediately after. “You have to hold on, alright?” There were sirens in the background, loud and getting louder even as sounds in general started sounding stranger, like he heard them through water. He almost missed Bull mutter, “Why didn’t you shield yourself?”</p><p>“I wasn’t...the one with a gun in my face.” Dorian wheezed in pain as Bull pressed his wadded-up blazer against the wounds. Pressure to stop the bleeding proved <em> far </em>more painful than the movies made it look. Dorian batted at Bull’s hand to get him to stop...or would have, had his arms responded to his command. They were not inclined to do so just then, instead remaining sprawled and limp on the ground. “I couldn’t let him shoot the...only man worth my time, now could I?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Bull said something else. Dorian knew it, could see the man’s lips were moving, but the sounds got lost beneath the press of the same cloudiness welling up over all Dorian’s senses. He did see one thing with sickening clarity though: The scar tugged at the left side of Bull’s mouth, warring with his worried frown.  Dorian’s heart hurt at the ragged sadness patterned across Bull’s distinctive features.</p><p>There was something important there - in that expression, in the words he could not hear - but Dorian slipped into the invading black. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dorian awoke with a groan, jostled into consciousness by a rather insistent knocking on his front door. He had slouched sidelong on the couch in a position that made his neck cramp and sat up clutching it, kneading the offending muscle as he yawned himself to wakefulness. Feeling the tug of the Fade still warping around him and admittedly concerned about the vividness of the memory-dream - at him slipping down the car, feeling his own blood saturating his clothes, Bull’s expression...yes. It was over, thankfully, but that moment had been when Dorian had known: Bull had looked at him as though Dorian were something precious, something that Bull realized he had been about to lose. </p><p>No. Wallowing, he was not going to allow. He was <em> fine, </em> and close call or not, it had been worth it to keep Bull safe.</p><p>Sighing, Dorian straightened with a wince to hear the familiar grating squeak of his front door swinging open to admit Krem. His fellow Tevinter national had a bright blue polo shirt with the rec center’s logo emblazoned on his back and unsurprisingly, he took the rather drab cut of the shirt and filled it out nicely. Dorian had little doubt Krem’s talent with needle and thread were to thank for the shirt’s rather flattering tapered fit.</p><p>“I knocked for about five minutes and then just used my key,” Krem advised, turning back as he closed the door and toed his shoes off. He smirked as he observed Dorian rising bleary-eyed from the couch. “Laid out on the couch at this time of day? I suppose I should be grateful you’re not tied up with no pants on, this time.”</p><p>“Of course not - it’s not my birthday,” Dorian contested as he sat straight and stretched. He winced at the dull pain from the upper left side of his chest. Krem’s smile faded as he caught Dorian’s hand drifting unconsciously towards the wound, the one that had so narrowly missed his heart. </p><p>“Bothering you still?” Krem knew about the puckered scar hiding beneath the fabric. When Dorian nodded, Krem tsked. “It’s new enough yet to be bothersome, I suppose.”</p><p>“I wonder how long it takes <em> that </em>delightful timeframe to pass,” Dorian muttered, getting to his feet. </p><p>“Not sure. You’re still the only person I know who's taken a bullet, let alone two.” He grinned at Dorian’s raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I know. Somehow, none of the Chargers have been shot.”</p><p>“It boggles the mind,” Dorian muttered, smiling faintly himself. “Something to drink?”</p><p>“Nah,” Krem waved him off as he flopped down onto Bull’s favorite oversized chair, a rather ornate paisley-patterned monstrosity that made Dorian’s sensibilities sob. “Thanks though. I had line drills and conditioning with the kids today so I’ve been hydrating.” There was a knock at the door which Dorian opened to admit a lithe Elven woman with a striking green Vallaslin patterned across her angular features. Dalish grinned, immediately looked at her phone, and said “Hah! 5:58. Two minutes early and Krem’s actually here, I told you so.” She kicked off shoes as Dorian raised a carafe at her. She nodded, taking up Dorian’s place on the couch as he poured coffee for them both. Krem did the math and scowled. </p><p>“Wait, you told her 6 but me to get here at 5:30? Why?”</p><p>“Because I knew you would be late,” Dorian said primly, sipping his coffee. Dalish snorted into hers. “You close the rec office with Lace on Tuesdays. 5:30 as a goal gave you enough time to shower and fraternize and still be fashionably late to get here, without running so late that we risk Bull catching us.” Krem’s jaw shut with an audible click as Dalish laughed brightly, pulling three lists from her messenger bag. </p><p>“Getting right into it,” she said over Krem’s grumbling, “I have all the supplies either on order or already at the shop. Rocky’s got everything squared away for the catering, too. He just got that extra cooler so he’s got plenty of space to store everything.”</p><p>“He’s not doing all the cooking himself again is he?”</p><p>She shook her head as Dorian returned to the couch next to her, curling his legs up beside him as he appraised his copy of the list. “Nope. I talked him into letting his staff help. He did it voluntarily and they were all about it, but you knew they would be. Everyone knows how Bull tips. Now, the warehouse-”</p><p>“‘The warehouse,’” Dorian murmured. “We’re still quite certain that’s the best choice of venue? A vacated open-floor warehouse attached to a line of storage units?”</p><p>“It’s industrial!” Dalish argued, “Besides, Grim has all kinds of cute furniture from all the house stagings he’s been doing stored one unit down from mine. We move that over to the warehouse and poof, instant venue. There’s running water and bathrooms too, and whatever we need for catering Rocky will bring and take care of. We are basically set.”</p><p>“As long as Bull’s schedule hasn’t changed,” Krem added solemnly, looking to Dorian. “We’re a whole two weeks off the normal day we celebrate. You know he works extra hours to make sure he gets that day off.”</p><p>“I spoke to Chief Cullen about the matter already,” Dorian assured them, not the least bit smug. His chess games with the police chief were rare, given the busyness of both their schedules, but were a well-known staple amongst the Chargers. “He’s not at all certain he can come, though he said he’d be glad to. Barring some imminent disaster, there will be no issue with Bull having the full weekend to himself. As we’re all aware, he’s due the break anyway.”</p><p>“Awesome,” Krem combed the list, checking the supplies and food, roles and actions they each had to complete before the party. Finally he nodded. “I think we’re in good shape. The trick will be keeping it from the big lug from now ‘til then.”</p><p>“We have succeeded thus far,” Dorian said. “I have let Bull know that I’ve a project going on with dear Clarence and he hasn’t questioned it. We should be covered from that aspect.”</p><p>The three of them sat reviewing for almost an hour after that, tossing each potential thought and issue out. They discussed and formulated, planned and strategized until every possible alternative was exhausted. “As far as I can tell, we’re as ready as we can be.” Krem stood and stretched, setting his list down. “Care if I steal a cup of that coffee, Pavus?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Dorian leaned over Dalish’s shoulder reviewing a sketch for the furniture layout. “Help yourself.”</p><p>Krem retrieved a mug but as he poured, the carafe glugged and a small puddle of coffee encroached on a letter and envelope on the counter. Snatching them out of the way in time to save them, Krem remedied the small mess and went to return the mail to its prior location. He would not have nosed into it further had he not noticed how expensive paper was, the text emblazoned in blood red ink. He’d read the first line before he’d realized what he was doing, the messaging so (incredibly) vitriolic that it took Krem aback.</p><p>“Dorian,” he called, bemused and concerned. The tone of his voice drew the other two to look up at Krem and the letter he held up. “Not trying to be nosy but...what the fuck is this?” To Krem’s surprise, Dorian’s face shuttered into an aloof mask, looking for all the world like the high-class asshole he would have been had he not overcome his upbringing.</p><p>“It’s nothing, Cremissius,” Dorian said flatly, dismissive. “Don’t trouble yourself.” Krem stared him down, folding his arms and waiting. Finally the mask cracked and Dorian deflated, rolling his eyes. “Honestly! It’s just some asshole using Google Translate. It’s <em> fine </em>. You know how some people are.” </p><p>Krem and Dalish both did, being a Tevinter and an elf respectively but Dorian’s closing statement made something cold unfurl in Krem’s gut. Krem thought it odd that Google Translate had nailed Tevene grammar perfectly but opted to keep that troubling thought to himself. Dorian shrugged and went on, “They’ll get bored eventually.”</p><p>“‘Eventually?’” Dalish asked, knitted brows confirming she was just as concerned as Krem was without having read it. Krem’s tone had been enough for her to understand it wasn’t good. “It’s not the first letter?” When Dorian shook his head Dalish’s wide eyes met Krem’s narrowed ones. “What does it say?”</p><p>“Nothing good,” Krem confirmed. Dorian had the presence of mind to flinch, but he shook it off quickly enough. “I honestly didn’t mean to read it but, ‘You don’t belong here, go back to where you’re meant to be.’ This isn’t friendly, Dorian.”</p><p>“Oh come now Cremissius, that would hardly be cause to rouse back home. A list of veiled threats in red ink? Completely gauche.”</p><p>Krem chose to ignore the misdirect. “What did Bull say?” The silence that descended after that question hung heavily between them, pushing to the point of awkwardness that hadn’t existed since the first few weeks they’d become acquainted. </p><p>“I didn’t tell him,” Dorian sniffed. </p><p>“Oh c’mon!” Dalish threw her arms up. “You have a live-in detective and you didn’t-“</p><p>“That’s precisely <em> why </em> I didn’t tell him. You know how he worries.” They both knew - and agreed - but neither looked convinced. Dorian felt himself edging into panic, worried to see his own concerns mirrored on their faces. Every bit of his Tevinter upbringing shrieked at him to restore face and get their attention off this unsightly interruption, even as a deeper part of him warmed that they cared enough to worry.</p><p>“Listen. This is not the time to wallow in the workings of some random asshole. Our time is <em> limited, </em>I might remind you, and we can’t risk Bull catching you here.” He gestured to the lists again to further their review and turn the conversation back to the party. “Shall we?”</p><p>Dalish and Krem shared a final worried glance that said he’d not heard the end of it but ultimately they obliged him. Sighing ever so slightly, Dorian kept his relief to himself and turned his mind to the task at hand.</p><p>They only had days left to make sure everything was perfect. Executed correctly, Bull would have no idea what they had planned.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The day of, everything was in place. To the best of their knowledge, all the pieces were aligned and Bull was none the wiser. Dorian backed out of the apartment and locked the door, picking up his bag of supplies and turning to find a man in a dark letterman jacket in the hall directly behind him.</p><p>Dorian recognized him in the instant his brain had to register. The man didn’t mince words, just barked a word that brought forth a searing blast of light and the sharp sting of ozone. The blow came directly after; that, Dorian did not see before the impermeable darkness swallowed him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dorian came to with a crick in his neck and a headache like pounding dwarven hammers. </p><p>“I believe I gave you express instructions not to hit him in the head,” a familiar, acidic voice droned, and bile crawled up Dorian’s throat. </p><p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Blood of the Covenant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is one instance of misgendering language in this chapter.<br/>Also Halward Pavus being a massive asshole, to an extent that surprised even me.<br/>Oh...and some violence. Again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dorian?” The house was silent, utterly empty. That was utterly wrong, too, given the time of day - Dorian should have been back by now, several hours ago. Bull himself was over two hours late.</p><p>Bull’s mind cycled up into what-ifs and contingency plans he knew were probably premature but old habits die hard. He checked his phone and the kitchen counters; there was no note, no text or voicemail. Dorian had only gone radio silent on Bull once the entire time they’d been together. When he’d seen what havoc Bull’s Seheron-fried nerves could wreak, though, he’d vowed never to do it again. He’d been as good as his word ever since. </p><p>Ice settled leaden around Bull’s heart as he drew his service weapon and started a sweep. He’d cleared the bedroom and their offices, tense as a drawn bow, when the doorbell rang and nearly drove his heart from his chest entirely. Everything in him screamed that the timing was too convenient; Bull clamped down the voices drilled into him by the Qunari enough to start forward. Keeping the .45 raised Bull advanced slowly, one foot at a time, back towards the door. </p><p>“The Iron Bull,” called a rather refined, very Tevinter male voice. Disgust curdled in Bull’s gut - not because of Seheron, there were no Alti on Seheron. Not close enough to do anything but scream or shoot spells, anyway, so it wasn’t that. No. It was the hint of seaside drawl to his consonants, the heavy almost purr on the vowels. The accent was from Qarinus or Bull was losing his edge. “I’m here to speak with you about Dorian Pavus.” Bull wasn’t losing his edge. The man on the other side of his door spoke the name with authority, as though he owned every syllable. There was a pause. “You would do well to leave your weapon on the counter and come with me.”</p><p>Every instinct screaming, Bull declined to follow the order in full. His left hand snaked and yanked the door open. By the time it swung inward, it was back to being clasped around his right, secure around the butt of his .45. Were he any less well trained, the sight of the robed man - a man with his lover’s eyes - would have made him stagger. He had heard too many stories, had heard too much pain in Dorian’s voice to not know Halward Pavus the moment he saw him. Dorian was a vivid storyteller and beyond that, he was clearly his father’s son. The resemblance between them was obvious in the lines of the jaw and the slope of the nose, the cut of the brows and even the lines at the corners of their mouths (though Halward’s were deeper, carved from years of glowering at political rivals and his own wayward son, no doubt). Their postures were similarly proud: Dorian carried himself like he was always waiting for applause; Halward stood as though expecting the room to kneel. He arched an eyebrow at Bull’s sidearm before lifting his gaze to meet Bull’s. </p><p>“I believe I gave you instructions on what to do with your weapon, Qunari. Do be civil. I require your presence to further my conversation with my son.” He said it without pause and only a small amount of annoyance at being disobeyed by an armed stranger who loomed over a foot taller than him.</p><p>“Riiiight,” Bull stalled. Even the most accomplished magic users he’d ever known would have flinched with a pistol in their faces. “A little weird, you showing up and giving me orders.” Bull didn’t lower the gun, didn’t waver an inch. Halward didn’t appear to have backup, no tells to suggest he was keeping the line of sight for a backup gunman or mage clear. That didn’t sit right, surely he wouldn’t have- </p><p>“A bit strange that a Tal-Vashoth Qunari keeps company with a Tevinter Altus, nevermind the host of other riff-raff you appear to have taken in, given their allegiance to you.” Bull’s training failed him at that. A scowl snaked onto his face. Halward ignored him and continued. </p><p>“A murderous alienage elf in a questionable relationship with a cast-off Dalish. A casteless. A few ramshackle humans, a Tevinter traitor and deserter among them.” He shook his head. “You present very interesting challenges to me, the Iron Bull. You keep company with half a dozen international incidents, and that’s not including your murderous friend Gatt. Now.” Halward turned his back on Bull and took a step down the hall. “If any of those people matter to you, you will put your sidearm on the counter, and you will come with me. I am not in the mood to repeat myself again.” </p><p>Bull, damn him, did as he was told. He walked backwards to his counter, and placed his gun on it. When he got back to the threshold, he closed the door behind him and followed Halward out.</p><p>The waiting car was not a shock by that time. Dark paint job, blacked windows. A stretch limo would have been the only larger cliche. Bull folded himself double to get past the threshold but Halward’s ride was actually a big enough SUV that Bull was able to fit in the seat facing Halward’s. He had to put his back to the driver, and had little doubt that there was in fact backup for the Magister on the other side of the darkened glass. Bull’s neck and back twisted to knots with his tension, a thousand questions and tactics spiraling past him. Halward had lobbed no less than a dozen threats at him, and he hadn’t even mentioned- </p><p>“What have you done with Dorian?” </p><p>Halward scoffed. “Rather obvious question, detective. I expected better from a former Ben-Hassrath but then I suppose you were fired for a reason. We are going to see him now. As I said, I require you to make a point.” The windows were too darkly tinted for Bull to tell where they were going. Wherever it was, they were moving fast. Out of town then, probably to somewhere secluded. Not good. Then again, Halward knew the Chargers, down to their social classes and names. He knew Dorian was missing and Bull had no doubt Halward was behind it. Every bit of this fucking reeked. </p><p>“And your point is what?” </p><p>“That my son is the heir to a legacy, one he seems Void-bent on destroying. You?” Halward shook his head. “You are too much. To proclaim publicly not only his proclivities, but tie himself to a Qunari? A capital ‘Q’ qunari. It’s treason. He will ruin us all with this madness, if he hasn’t already.” </p><p>It took everything for Bull to keep his hands from curling into fists in his lap. “Maybe it’s none of your fucking business.” </p><p>“Of course.” Halward’s chuckle was devoid of mirth. “If only lust triumphed over all and had no consequences to the rest of his family. Not that you would understand worrying for your blood relatives. To your knowledge you have none.” Halward sighed. “No matter. Your band of miscreants seems to matter to you. Perhaps you can help me make Dorian see reason.”</p><p>Ten minutes into their uncomfortable silence Halward’s phone rang. There was just enough road noise that Bull could nothing but sit and try to rein in the thousands of what-ifs in his head while Halward made noncommittal noises. An eternity later, however, the SUV pulled to a slow stop and Halward strode out. Agitated, he hung up the phone and stopped walking, and he tsked and turned to Bull as he climbed out. </p><p>“Your phone.” When Bull hesitated, Halward snapped his fingers. “Do not delude yourself, detective: I will waylay you with all the resources my House and my talent have borne me should you not do as you’re told.” He snapped his fingers; Bull wanted to break them. “Your phone.” He extended his hand. Bull mused through sixteen ways to break Halward’s wrist before the Magister could get a spell off, but he knew the bruiser lurking behind him could park a shot from his .44 right between his shoulders just as quickly. Knowing he was truly in this alone, Bull handed the cell phone over. Halward dropped it to the front walk and smashed it neatly between his booted heel and the concrete underfoot. “Come.” he ordered, turning to lead Bull into the most nondescript industrial building he’d ever seen. No signs, no identifying details or an address. The fucker was good, Bull would give him that. Begrudgingly. </p><p>As soon as they were inside, two massive humans - still barely up to Bull’s shoulders - moved to flank him. He surrendered his wrists to be cuffed behind him as Halward nodded approval. </p><p>“You will be silent and wait for my instructions, The Iron Bull. Make no mistake, I will make you very sorry if you cause me more trouble than you already have.” He didn’t wait for an answer, striding through a side door instead, leaving Bull with his oversized babysitters barring the far door. The door behind Halward himself didn’t swing shut, though, and Bull’s heart leapt in pained hope as he heard Dorian’s broken voice before plummeting at his words.</p><p>“Father! Cremisius has nothing to do with this - let him go!” </p><p>“Dorian,” Halward’s voice took a different edge when addressing his son, condescending exasperation mixed with the subtle undertones of a threat, “surely you have not been in the south so long as to not know vermin when you see one. I am disappointed in you, this Soporati-“ Bull’s chest constricted at the familiar sound of Krem’s pained laugh, forced bravado and all. He knew the sound well from one too many bar nights gone sideways. </p><p>“‘This Soporati,’” Krem said; his attitude certainly sounded fine, “-hasn’t gotten jack shit from being around your illustrious kin. No offense, Dorian.” Bull heard the mage agree ‘none taken’ as Krem continued. “So whatever it is you think I’m after? You can stick it straight up your ass.” </p><p>Halward ignored the intrusion. “Truly, Dorian? Associates like these are all it takes for you to sell yourself to treason?” There was a stricken note to Halward’s voice now. </p><p>Krem laughed again. “Treason my ass, Magister. And you know what? We have a word for ‘associates for whom you get into shit’ down here. It’s called a friend, not that you’d know what the fuck one looks like.” Krem cut off with a grunt of pain. </p><p>“That is quite enough, Feron,” Halward snapped icily. “I need not remind you how rude it is to hit a woman.” Krem and Dorian snarled in unison at that, but Halward’s forced calm overrode them. “See Cremisius out, Feron. We are done for now.”</p><p>Bull’s mind reeled as the scuff of boots and low noises likely meant Krem had been led away. How hard would be it to get in there? This fucker had Dorian <em> and </em>Krem...possibly the rest of the Chargers as well. They were in there, and even from here Bull’s adrenaline-heightened senses alerted him to the presence of blood. </p><p>Bull forced himself to breathe deeply, driving his body to calm even as plans whirled in his head. One man behind him. Two next to him. Two right by him. He'd done something like this once on Seheron and it had resulted in some missing fingers, but it had also resulted in his escape. Bull grit his teeth and dropped to his good knee.</p><p>"Gnngh." </p><p>"What's wrong?" the man to his left snarled. </p><p>"Just my knee." Bull contorted his face, tightening his muscles to show he struggled to rise and couldn’t. “Old injury. It gives out.” </p><p>"Oh good, he didn't just pick a qunari, he picked one with arthritis." the man muttered, sneering as Bull tried to get up and fell again. </p><p>"A little help?" he finally asked. </p><p>"Forget it. If you're hurting now, imagine what the magister has in store." The other man shifted slightly. </p><p>"You know he got pissed when we hit Dorian last time..." he said and Bull fought the urge to bristle. He had to think clearly. He had one shot at this. </p><p>"And?" </p><p>"He thinks we're roughing this ox up before he gave us the go-ahead, we might get..." </p><p>Bull’s laugh silenced him. "Wow. Sounds like Dorian isn't the only one who doesn't want a spanking." he smirked. That earned him a quick kick to the gut. "What did he just say? You're not...that bright." he grinned. The man raised a fist only to have the other stop him, before snarling and wrenching his hand back. </p><p>"Fine. Help me get the fatass up," he spat, grabbing hold of Bull's arm. The other man took hold of Bull's other arm and they started to lift. That was their mistake. As soon as they had him up, Bull used the momentum to keep going, pulling the one on his right under his arm and throwing him into the torso of the other. With the way he was moving it positioned them directly behind him and in line of the gunman just as a shot rang out. It pierced one of their shoulders, but Bull paid no attention. He was running for the door now at full speed. If he could catch him by surprise he could take him down. Just as Bull reached the door, he felt a fiery pain split through his right thigh, but he kept going. He threw his entire bulk against the door to the warehouse, obliterating it like rotten wood, and nearly caught hold of Halward. Nearly. He was inches away from slamming his shoulder into him and taking him down when a sudden wrenching pain sent him crashing back to the floor. Electricity popped and he opened his mouth, gasping in pain as he writhed there. </p><p>"You've never had particularly good taste, Dorian, but I would have hoped you would choose a man with manners," a new voice tutted. Female and refined. Bull winced, fighting the pain as he opened his eye and sighted an older woman standing by Halward's side. She had the same color of hair and skin as Dorian and though she was a good deal shorter than husband and son she carried herself like an empress. </p><p>It was her hand that was casually extended, producing the magic frying his insides. "Your father was never good at doing anything on his own, Dorian. I thought perhaps this time, I would offer my assistance in talking sense into you." the woman turned towards Dorian. "You're just as much my son as his."</p><p>Bull's chest convulsed when the surge of lightning cut off, leaving him shivering on the concrete floor as every muscle group twitched, uncoordinated and erratic. So much for a grand entrance, then. He hadn't planned on Lady Pavus also being present, nevermind her reaction time. Lightning, no less. Dorian was a bigger mix of his folks than Bull had guessed. </p><p>Allowing himself a groan, Bull rolled onto his side and looked up. The entire Pavus family stared back at him: Halward with disgust; Aquinea with disdain; Dorian with wide-eyed horror. Bull's heart pounded painfully from the spell, clenching even more so at the sight of his Kadan. The blue-black of an impressive bruise curled around Dorian's left eye, the couple of busted blood vessels a crimson match to the thin trail of blood curling from the corner of his lips down his chin. He'd scooted to the edge of his chair, all but lunging toward Bull, clearly restraining himself because they needed to change tactics. It looked like his hands were tied. </p><p>
  
</p><p>"I've not been here five minutes and already, all of this," Aquinea sighed. "Feron! Be a dear and come help the Iron Bull to his feet." </p><p>"Mother." Dorian's voice lowered, nearly hissed from behind clenched teeth. </p><p>"Do not be dramatic," Aquinea shot back, prim and utterly nonplussed. She shooed the big bruiser to Bull's aid as soon as he'd cleared the door. "As for you, Mr. Bull, I would greatly appreciate no further nonsense. Dorian is ever so easy to rile, and we all need to have a sensible chat to accomplish our goals. We cannot do that if you're making me launch a spell as a defense mechanism, now can we?" She lifted a manicured brow at him, even as Feron hauled Bull to his feet. </p><p>"No. Ma'am." That seemed to placate her; she bobbed her head once in agreement. </p><p>"Excellent. Perhaps there is hope for your manners yet." Bull rolled the crick from his neck as Feron beat a hasty retreat. "Now, if we may...?" </p><p>"I don't know what you wish to accomplish, Mother." Dorian kept his eyes on his parents, standing before him, and very conscientiously away from Bull, off to the side of the room from the three of them. "We are at no less an impasse now than we were three years ago. My stance on the matter has not changed." </p><p>"Clearly it has," Halward snapped, interrupting. Bull saw a flash of silver against the dark flesh of his palm and choked on a growl. Dorian never took his engagement ring off, plain silver or no, and to see it in the Magister's hand flamed Bull's temper. </p><p>"Yes," Aquinea agreed, though her tone differed from the banked anger in Halward's. She sounded almost curious. "Clearly you are no longer content to hide, no matter the consequence."</p><p>"That would be the reason behind the several hundred miles’ worth of distance and the complete lack of contact, yes," Dorian replied, voice dour. Aquinea huffed a humorless laugh. </p><p>"Ever the wordsmith. A shame we could never keep you on topic." The half smile slipped into something decidedly more forlorn, but before she could expand on the thought, Halward spoke. </p><p>"Dorian. Surely by now you must understand the situation you've put us in. All of this, all of-" his arms swept to encompass Bull, nearby, and the direction of a long hall down which Krem had assumedly been carted off, "-none of this is sustainable. You have been running for too long, my son. We have things to achieve, things to accomplish, and you must-" </p><p>"Stop running from your agenda?" Dorian snapped. Bull watched the muscles of Dorian's shoulders pull tight against the ropes, shifting beneath the dark grey fabric of his button down. "I did stop running, or rather I had, and the moment I did so, you resumed pursuit. Do neither of you realize how insane this is?" His voice rose; Bull's nose wrinkled as the smell of ozone seared the air. "You cannot simply invade half a dozen people’s lives and hold them hostage! All of this to try to force me to return home?" Dorian's eyes burned, flitting past his mother to return, ultimately, to Halward. The Magister's hands curled into fists. </p><p>"Yes." Dorian's teeth were not the only ones gritted now. The heavy muscle of Halward's jaw popped with tension. "Despite all your endless bleating about it, you <b>will</b> do your duty, Dorian. You cannot throw away hundreds of years of progress and sacrifice for nothing, no matter the fantasy you've built in your head." Dorian's lip curled and he finally rose.  The moment he got free of the seat, Halward's clenched fist rose and a wave of force magic slammed Dorian back down. Halward drew a breath. "We are trying to be civil, Dorian. We are trying to compromise."</p><p>Bull realized he'd stopped breathing. Watching the whole thing transpire, painfully powerless, he'd ceased drawing breath until that moment. Every nerve in his still-flayed body shrieked on high alert. When he finally sucked in a gulp of air, Dorian flinched. His Kadan wilted forward, proud shoulders rounded, a lock of his normally pristine hair flopping disheveled onto his forehead. </p><p>"Compromise." Dorian shook his head, eyes closed against the sentiment, lips curled at the burn of the word.</p><p>"Yes. We are not suggesting you leave your..." Halward trailed off. From the curl of his lips he couldn't say it, couldn't connect any word implying love between his offspring and the enemy. The words curdled, milk-stale on his tongue. "We are not suggesting you leave The Bull behind. You may bring him with you, if you wish." Dorian lifted his gaze, eyes narrowed in suspicion that his father wasted no time confirming was well placed. "Not openly, of course." At the look on Dorian's face, Halward scowled. "I can spin the times of your misspent youth, Dorian. The whores, the brothels, all of it. This? This is too much, but we are far from home. We can make the rumors seem to be just that, with enough time and energy." He glanced at Bull for a moment, the sharpest of side glances. "The Bull would have to be smuggled into the country, of course, and remain at the estate, well-hidden." </p><p>Dorian’s head shook 'no' before his father could finish the last. "You think, what, that a free man would..." Bull winced, hearing the portends of something vicious before the rest of the words even slipped past Dorian's lips, "-would leave his life, his family, to live in near-servitude for the privilege of, what, lo-" his voice broke, brittle as the bitter laugh he choked out as he shook his head, slower now. The anger had ebbed away, eroded everything but the pain from his expression. "No. No, of course you don't expect him to agree, why would he? That's rather the point." </p><p>"The option is there," Halward rebutted, quiet and firm. "Whether he takes it is not up to me."</p><p>Somewhere past gagging on bile and his own furiously beating heart, Bull found his voice. "Do I get a say in this?" If the sound of his breathing had been painful to Dorian, the sound of Bull speaking was a killing blow. Dorian jerked and turned his face from the sound. </p><p>"You do," Halward replied, almost amiably. The sudden false neutrality in his tone rang louder than the anger had. </p><p>"Alright." Bull shrugged out a kink in his shoulder, buying himself some time. The ounce of pleasure Bull got from the fact that Halward twitched at the motion wasn't all that satisfying, but at least he was still giving the collected Magister some amount of pause. He didn't need another jolt, though, and Aquinea was watching him far too intently for comfort. "What would I do for a job? I have one of those now, you know." </p><p>Halward scoffed. "We have no need for your services, oxman: our family is more than well established enough to shoulder the cost of your expenses. You would be there for Dorian, nothing more." </p><p>"You're right," Bull countered, loudly, hitting every syllable like an anvil strike. "I would." Halward nodded primly after a long awkward moment but behind him, Dorian's shoulders curled in and started to shake.</p><p>"This is ludicrous," Dorian whispered, still shaking his head, meeting the gaze of no one in the room. "Absolute insanity. Perhaps I've finally succumbed and this is some demon's idea of a cruel joke." </p><p>"Dorian-" Aquinea began; he cut her off. </p><p>"No, Mother, I've heard quite enough." What Bull could see of Dorian's expression, he didn't like; the curl of those full lips pulled into a snarl made his skin crawl, even more so when Dorian looked up at Halward and smirked, vicious and without care. "This is what you want, Father? A good, obedient little son? Very well. Release your captives, and I will go with you. Alone-" he was quick to snap, drawing Bull up short, "-and that's the way I will stay, picture perfect for whatever twisted photo op your little heart desires." Past the sting, Bull could read the rest in every line of Dorian's wretched posture. <em> I will burn the estate to the ground and grind your name to dust in the ashes. </em> </p><p>"You know it's not that simple," Halward's cadence had viridium in it now, "your bad behaviours are not new, Dorian. You cannot be trusted to do what's best without guidance. That having been said, you will return home with us, yes, but for every one of your missteps, one of these friends of yours is going to suffer." Dorian blanched. Halward sighed. "You truly will never change, Dorian, and in such, you force my hand. I have agents - real ones, not just any Ferelden thugs-for-hire - and I will keep tabs on your friends. You will obey us or they will pay the price." </p><p>"You can't." Dorian's voice was a whisper. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that. </p><p>"I can," Halward's was an anvil, "and I will. You care nothing for yourself, Dorian, but you will not throw away the lives of these people as readily as you will your own."</p><p>“What you must understand,” Aquinea sliced through the tension with an oddly calm tone. More surprisingly, she was looking at Bull as she said it, “is that Dorian has a terrible tendency to lead with his heart rather than his head.” </p><p>“Yeah he does,” Bull growled. The honesty in the response made both the elder Pavuses look at him oddly, Halward with a frown, Aquinea with head cocked. </p><p>“You say it as though you know.” Aquinea folded her arms. Bull straightened, keeping his eyes off of the hunched form in the chair. </p><p>“I do. Whatever the two of you think of me and of us, I know him.” </p><p>“Tell me what you know of my son, The Iron Bull.” Her tone seemed genuine, and truly, he needed something, <em> anything </em>, to stall. The ache of the memory she was demanding made him frown. </p><p>“I know he cares too much,” Bull groused, sounding exactly like an agitated lover when he did so, “and thinks he can do everything on his own.” Aquinea huffed a laugh. Halward kept his dour expression but listened. “He’s right, too, most of the time. Most.” Except when the mage’s unwillingness to... no, Bull refused to say compromise, not given the foulness Halward had made of the word minutes before. He let the sentiment stand.</p><p>“What is it that puts that look on your face?” Bull cocked a brow at her, shrugging his massive shoulders to remind her of the handcuffs. “Humor me, The Iron Bull. You have nowhere else to be, do you? Nowhere more important, in any case.” She had him there. </p><p>“No, I guess not, ma’am.” Stall, stall, stall... “Though I’m not sure words do it justice. How about you unbutton Dorian’s shirt for me, and then I’ll tell you.” </p><p>“Is this some manner of crude joke?” Halward snapped, but his wife was already moving. Dorian had gone as silent as winter morning, barely shifting as his mother stepped in front of him. </p><p>“Dorian.” It wasn’t a question. He barked an aborted sound in answer and Aquinea took that as acceptance, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Bull was at just the right angle to see her eyes go wide. “Dorian, what is this?” She asked, even though it was obvious. The knot of pinkish scar tissue was an inch above his heart, still pinched and raw from the night in the parking lot. She pressed one manicured hand gently to the smooth skin around the damaged. “What in the Maker’s name-“ </p><p>“How did you not have a barrier up?” Halward hissed, seeing the near-fatal mark over Aquinea’s shoulder. </p><p>“The doctors said that were he any less powerful he would have died,” Bull snapped in answer. Using Dorian’s near sacrifice as a tactic twisted his gut into knots, but he needed to buy time and form a plan. “They think his understanding of anatomy and the residual magic helped him hold himself together. He did everything he could and then some, and saved my life on top of that.” Aquinea buttoned the shirt back up, thankfully missing the second scar where Dorian had been gut-shot to boot. </p><p>“You took a bullet for another?” She sighed at Dorian before Bull could answer. “You are not your father’s son at all, Dorian.” </p><p>“I don’t think he knew it was going to happen, but his reaction in the moment was to protect me,” Bull replied honestly. Halward’s face had closed off - he was pissed, upset at the near loss - but Aquinea had changed tactics as well. Bull couldn’t pin down her angle. A glance at his fiancé proved that Dorian wasn’t going to be any help so he soldiered on, “I couldn’t have stopped him if I’d wanted to and believe me, other times I have tried.” </p><p>“And would you have?” Aquinea asked, prim. Bull tilted his head in question. “Stopped him, had you the chance. Would you have taken that bullet instead?”</p><p>“Of course I would,” Bull said it with every ounce of conviction he had. A blast of sound answered him, partnered with a flare of heavy pain against his left clavicle. The burst of force magic stunned him, staggered Bull back, but as he stumbled to regain his balance he heard Aquinea snap. </p><p>“Halward, enough!” </p><p>“Is it?” He snarled. A second shot burst against Bull’s right side. His bones creaked under the force and he dropped to his good knee and took stock. He didn’t appear to be bleeding, at least not externally, but those hits had felt like hammers. “This beast let our son take fire meant for him and you want me to stop?” </p><p>“I would do it again!” Dorian roared, startling Halward badly enough that the curling ball of mana in his fist dissipated. “I would do it again, Father, and nothing you do or say will change that.” Halward shoved past Aquinea and grabbed Dorian by the collar, half-hauling him out of the chair. </p><p>“That is precisely the problem! You truly think this Qunari cares for you?” Dorian met his Father’s furious expression ounce for ounce. He opened his mouth but Aquinea spoke first, stepping between them, prying Halward’s hand from the fabric and physically separating the two. </p><p>“The Bull can speak for himself, Halward,” she directed, icy calm. “I would have him do so.” </p><p>“He was a spy. He is a liar by trade!” </p><p>“And yet he told the truth of a wound he knew would make us both want to kill him,” she deadpanned. “That speaks to something, Halward. I would hear what.” She raised her eyes to Bull, who was taller than her even while kneeling. “Speak.”</p><p>Bull took a deep breath, sealing the image of Dorian’s wilted, defeated posture in his mind’s eye. He had to do something - anything - to fix this. He lifted his chin and met Aquinea’s gaze.</p><p>“Your son is a pain in the ass,” he said sincerely. Halward made an offended noise that Bull ignored. “He’s headstrong, pompous, and there are times he’s so Tevinter it makes my teeth ache.” Aquinea folded her arms, waiting, so Bull allowed himself a steadying pause as he marched on. “But he’s also sincere and devoted and fucking brilliant. Erm, sorry ma’am.” She waved him on. “He’s got a kind heart and the mental horsepower to topple anything and anyone in his path. Enough to actually do something about the shit that’s wrong with the world, if he wanted to. Point is, though, that none of that matters: Dorian is worth it just because. I don’t need his magic or his pedigree. I love him for being <em> him </em>, and not for anything else.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Aquinea said quietly, not really a question. Her eyes did not leave Bull’s.</p><p>He met that gaze and did not waiver. “Yeah,” Bull replied. “Yeah, it is.”</p><p>Dorian looked up, face twisted with emotion. “Bull, I-” he began only to bite off the next word, cut off by a loud <em> SLAP </em>, physically interrupted by Halward’s hand slamming into his cheek. When he turned back to face his father his snarl was murderous, anger molten in his eyes. “No Father, you-” another slap silenced him, harder this time.</p><p>“Dorian, <em> you will be silent </em> . I am done listening to your prattling just as I am done listening to his.” Dorian spat a mouthful of blood onto Halward’s expensive loafers. His father struck him again, shoulders heaving with the effort. Bull snarled audibly. He thought he heard Aquinea hiss under her breath at the same time. “You words are pretty ones, Iron Bull, <em> that </em> I will grant you. I would expect no less from an ex-Ben-Hassrath spy. Emotional tirades take practice to make convincingly and you are truly an expert. I applaud you.” Halward’s expression had lost all semblance of calm, the skin of his face purpling in the glaring white bloom of the fluorescent lights. “Therein lies the problem. You are damned both ways, you see. </p><p>“You could be lying - which I expect you are - and biding your time to take advantage of Dorian’s pedigree, perhaps for the benefit of your handlers. Delivering them an Altus brought so effectively to heel is likely enough to get you back in their good graces. The Qun does so hate to waste a tool after all.” Halward spat the words as horror curdled in Bull’s gut. Everyone in the room had gone deathly still.</p><p>“Alternatively, you could be telling the truth. You may truly think you love my son, insofar as you are capable. Nevermind that ‘love’ is a fool’s construct fit for fiction with little place in the real world.” Halward stepped towards Bull. Dorian tugged somewhat frantically at the cords on his arms, twisting as he tried to get free. Halward slammed him bodily against the back of the chair with a dismissive gesture. The impact blasted the wind from Dorian’s lungs, killing his next words in the process. “If you truly desire nothing of my son, The Iron Bull, you are no better than he is: happy to squander hundreds of years of refining the best of an entire nation!”</p><p>“Maybe he wants to just live his fucking life,” Bull growled, inviting Halward’s aggressive predatory advance to continue.</p><p>“His potential is nearly limitless!” Halward snapped. “He is far too talented to waste away in the filth of this backwards country!” ‘<em> -with a man like you’ </em> went unsaid, but Bull didn’t believe Halward even hated him that much. He hated what the Bull represented, certainly, but there was way more to it than that.</p><p>“He’s that wonderful, yeah? Yet here you are, Father of the Year, slapping him around in the middle of an empty warehouse.” Bull grinned ferally, his own anger seeping into every syllable. “Makes a shitload of sense to you, does it? Because I don’t fucking get it.” Halward took the bait and continued coming at Bull, lightning dancing across his knuckles in the exact gesture Bull had seen on Dorian on the rare occasions he’d seen him truly angry. “You have these lofty ideals about duty and what’s required of Dorian because of who his grandparents fucked, but <em> love </em> is the antiquated way of thinking. Right.”</p><p>“The immediacy dripping from all this talk of emotion is what is outdated! Clearly neither you nor he understand that. It matters nothing to me if <em> you </em> do not understand,” he sneered. “You were cast out by your own people, apparently so flawed as to be irredeemable. What would you care about expectations, <em> Hissrad?” </em> That jibe hit so hard that something in Bull snapped. He shivered in rage, just once, barely able to contain himself, but it had little to do with what Halward Pavus thought he knew. He didn’t get a chance to rebut the man.</p><p>Dorian beat him to it. His voice was quieter now, beyond emotion, but in the crackling pause it filled the room. “That is enough, you hateful bastard.” Halward made a guttural noise - a father disobeyed one too many times in one sitting - but as he turned one more time to silence his errant son, Aquinea drew level to his side. Halward made another sound but this one bubbled unfinished from his lips; so did a line of running crimson, fresh-let blood. Bull couldn’t see what she’d done, he was facing their backs, but the look on Dorian’s face was one of wide-eyed shock.</p><p>“I believe I told you what I would do if you touched our son again, Halward. Was I too quiet for you to hear? I doubt it. I recall screaming. It was very unlike me, after all.” Aquinea’s right hand pushed harder to her husband’s side. Her left was bunched up in the back of his robes. Bull could see a faint outline shimmering around them both. “Old houses are so much more fragile than we care to admit. I believe I swore on both our names what I would do if you hurt Dorian a second time. When have you ever known me as someone who breaks a promise?” Halward gasped something indiscernible before his teeth clacked together as his jaw snapped shut. Aquinea chuckled grimly. “Not a promise then, but a threat. Then again, you’ve never been one to listen well. I should not be surprised.” When she ripped her right hand free a swirl of dark maroon and black spun from her fingertips, coursing around Halward in a twisting spiral.</p><p>“Mother?” Dorian’s voice was quiet, muted by the shock. He did not know where to look, wide eyes darting between his parents.</p><p>“Dorian, hush.” Halward made another aborted noise. Aquinea released him, gesturing with her right hand. The magister’s eyes rolled back in his head and he sunk to the floor, gurgling as he went. “Finally some silence,” she added, far less gently than she had chided her son. She scowled down at her husband.  “I am being far kinder than I threatened, Halward. You remember Livia Alexius? Maker rest her soul. She would be disappointed but I simply can’t be as violent as I should be. Not while our child is here watching.” Looking to the same, Aquinea sighed. “Hardly a child now I realize but you must forgive me, Dorian. You will forever be my little boy no matter how tall you get.” Dorian swallowed hard, eyes locked on what appeared to be his father’s final moments. “Dorian. Look at me.” </p><p>Bull watched Aquinea slip her bloodsoaked hand behind her back while Dorian mutely did as he was told.</p><p>“I do not expect you to forgive me, Dorian,” her voice wavered, truly uncertain for the first time. Ironic, given that her husband lay in a heap on the floor. “Not for having to watch this, and not for my hand in it, but I truly had no choice. He was never going to stop unless I made him.”</p><p>Dorian allowed himself a choked chuckle-sob, closing his eyes. “No. I don’t believe he would. Is he…?” Aquinea made a shushing gesture and shook her head. Amidst a hundred other emotions Dorian managed to somehow look relieved.</p><p>“Feron, you know what to do.” The bruisers behind Bull came forward but hesitated as Aquinea leveled a serious look. “I realize I have no room to ask you anything, The Iron Bull, but I would ask your cooperation in this.” She waited to see if he was going to interrupt. He didn’t. “I will have them release you if you agree to release Dorian, take your friends, and leave.”</p><p>He’d heard a lot of shit over his years of living but that got his eyebrow up. “Ma’am?”</p><p>“I will manage all of this and get my husband home without anyone here being the wiser. It was our fault, after all.  All I have need of you is to take my son and your friends and leave. You will find their vehicle out back. It seemed they had something of their own planned before we so rudely interfered.”</p><p>“Mother…” Dorian’s voice was a spectre. </p><p>“Dorian my dear, we all know Tevinter has her prejudices,” Aquinea went on, “but Ferelden is not without her own. I can imagine some of The Bull’s band of fellows are not the kind of people these Southerners take to. Best to leave the police out of it.” Dorian did not argue and Aquinea’s eyes, greener than her sons, settled back on Bull’s own. “These sorts of little mishaps happen all the time in Tevinter. I suggest you let me handle it. Do we have an accord, Bull?”</p><p>One of the bruisers had draped a cloth over Halward’s still form. The Chargers hadn’t seen it. It had just been him and Dorian, the latter of which still drooped forward in the chair, eyes closed.</p><p>“This never happened,” Bull said slowly. The thought of pretending a kidnapping hadn’t happened right in front of him made  his memory surge; he smelled salt in the air. The feeling of the bruisers behind him unlocking his cuffs shook him out of it. Aquinea took the opportunity to crouch over Halward and pry something from his hand, turning back to Bull just as quickly. </p><p>“There is a back exit at the other end of the building. I suggest you take it. Give me three days and you may feel free to return, if you wish it. And Dorian?” She looked at him with a rueful smile. His shoulders tightened in acknowledgement but he did not look up.“We will not bother you again. If you and I speak it will be because you wish to. I have always loved you, Dorian.” She inclined her head to Bull, who took the cue and stepped past her. As he did she placed two sets of keys and a small band of silver in his hand as she stepped away. One was a stock ring of bland steel keys that Bull assumed took care of the door and several sets of handcuffs. The second key was on a ring by itself and was far more intricate, an inch-long stretch of metal without any teeth. The twisted symbol at the base of it looked like it might have been a rune.</p><p>The last was Dorian’s silver engagement ring.</p><p>It was as close to an explicit approval as he’d ever get from her, he suspected. Bull positioned himself between Dorian and the lumpy bruiser scooping up the still form of his father. The shoulders under his hands were unmoving - no tremble, no tension, just muscle and nothing else. The stillness was the least-Dorian reaction Bull could have imagined and he wasn’t sure what to do. His Ben-Hassrath training fell flat on what to do to comfort your heart in a situation quite like this one.</p><p>“Kadan?”</p><p>“Let’s just go,” Dorian muttered quietly, voice filled with exhaustion. Functioning for the two of them Bull could do. He gently slipped his hands beneath Dorian’s arms and pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his love and leading him from the room, careful to block the view of anything but the wall and the way ahead with his own bulk. As soon as they’d made the hallway the door swung shut behind them.</p><p>Bull kept Dorian close to his side, unsure what to say. His Kadan sagged against him, deep in that uncharacteristic silence. It wasn’t hard to figure out which door they needed and though the walk felt like it took an eternity, the whisper of angry voices led him straight to the proper spot. Bull released Dorian, who leaned against his bound arms against the opposite wall. When Bull jangled the keys Dorian shook his head once.</p><p>“Them first.”</p><p>“Alright Kadan.”</p><p>The largest key took care of the Masterlock padlocking the warehouse door shut. The voices inside had gone silent at the rattling of metal.</p><p>“If you’re back for more you can fuck right off!” A familiar female voice roared as the door swung open.</p><p>“Good to see you too, Dalish,” Bull rumbled.</p><p>“Chief?!” the startled voices of most of the Chargers rose up to greet him as the sight of them all sitting on the floor, rumpled but unharmed. Krem looked the worst for wear, sporting a shiner almost as impressive as Dorian’s, along with a split lip. He was sitting suspiciously close to Grim; Grim had the look of a man who had just stopped trying to sneak cookies from the jar. Or, in this case, attempting to pick a set of handcuffs without the ideal equipment for doing so. As the initial shock faded the five of them started to speak at once. Bull shook his head.</p><p>“No questions. We gotta go.” Krem was closest so Bull tugged him upright, rifling through the keys until he found the right one. As soon as Krem stood free Bull gave him the keys. He took half a moment and crushed his other favorite Tevinter to him in a hug, tightly enough that Krem squawked but also returned the grip just as fiercely. Having set Krem loose to free the others Bull headed for Dalish on a guess. When he helped her to her feet her cuffs proved to be an ornate, heavy leather-and-metal set that looked ridiculous on her delicate wrists.</p><p>“They’re runed,” she whispered to Bull and indeed, he could see the slight gray twinge to her skin even under the Vallaslin. Bull clicked his tongue, sure Dorian was in the same sort of setup. This sort of mage control cost a fortune; the Pavuses had spared no expense. </p><p>Or, a darker thought warned him, he understood Dorian’s lingering trauma about fleeing Tevinter a bit better now.</p><p>“You’re doing great,” Bull muttered to Dalish, dragging his own attention back and squatting so he could figure out how to disengage the magical suppression. The weird metal piece pressed into an indent at the base of each cuff to release the runes individually. Bull grunted as Dalish heaved a sigh of relief. </p><p>“Thanks Chief.”</p><p>They organized quickly after that. By the time Bull had gotten Dalish loose Krem had already freed Skinner and Grim and was working on Rocky. Inside of five minutes they were all free and pouring out the back.</p><p>Rocky’s massive three-row van was parked beside a tree out back, just as Aquinea had promised. They piled in, Dorian and Bull into the very back and the rest of the Chargers scattered throughout. Rocky took his place in the driver’s seat and set the course back to town without a word.</p><p>The silence was heavy, crushingly so, but it didn’t last long. Dorian, subconsciously rubbing the skin of his chafed wrists, choked out a wet laugh.</p><p>“Well, <em> that </em>ruined everything.”</p><p>“Anybody seriously hurt?” Krem asked, businesslike. The responses were all nonverbal but all to the negative. He glanced back at Dorian and said, “None of us are busted. Take more than that to do any permanent damage to the Chargers, Dorian.” The mutters to that were far more positive. Dorian made a derisive sound.</p><p>“Though I am definitely pissed about all that work we did,” Dalish murmured, propping her chin on her hand and leaning against the window. </p><p>“...and your dad is definitely an asshole,” Bull muttered. Dorian sat stiffly next to Bull, curled into himself like he was waiting for the moment - for everything - to shatter. “Bad as they are,  that could have gone worse. Things aren’t as bad as they could be.”</p><p>“Before or after my family intruded and ruined the lives of everyone who matters to me here?” Dorian’s voice cracked on the fierce whisper, as he hissed at Bull as though all the Chargers weren’t right there to hear him.</p><p>“My life isn’t ruined,” Stitches offered to another chorus of affirmative statements and grunts.</p><p>“The food’s not even ruined,” Rocky added. “I didn’t have time to finish prepping before they jumped me. It’s all still in the coolers.” </p><p>“I spent six hours in a trunk once,” Dalish added. Dorian looked at her, horrified. “Oh nooo,” she waved him off, exaggerating the ‘o,’ “-don’t worry, it’s a great story. I’m just saying that was way worse than this.”</p><p>Dorian opened his mouth, froze, and closed it again.</p><p>“I recognized two of them,” Skinner remarked from the passenger seat. She was cleaning her nails with the tip of a pocket knife.</p><p>“From Tevinter?” Dalish asked. The trepidation in her tone matched Dorian’s expression for intensity.</p><p>“Yeah.” She shrugged. “They’re professionals. If she says it’s handled and they’re involved…” She made a noncommittal noise. “They’re assholes but they’re expensive ones. There won’t be a spot in that place come tomorrow morning.” That was more words than Dorian had ever heard Skinner utter in a single sitting. The other Chargers seemed equally surprised, nodding at her assessment as though that were the end of it.</p><p>“...are you all mad? <em> My parents kidnapped you all and held you hostage in a warehouse.” </em></p><p>“For like, what,” Rocky checked his watch and Grim grunted an answer. “Yeah, 14 hours. I need to take a leak but that’s the worst of it.” He shrugged. “Stone, I have days at the cafe that are worse.”</p><p>“Pavus,” Krem said abruptly. He kept his gaze out the windshield and didn’t turn back. “<em> We all have our own brand of baggage,” </em> he reminded Dorian in Tevene, shrugging one shoulder. “ <em> Altus or not, you’re no different. The rules aren’t different either - I meant what I said. Friend is a friend, crazy parents or not.” </em> </p><p>Dorian cleared his throat and, at a loss, nodded. Krem’s head bobbed in answer and he turned back to face front.</p><p>Bull tugged Dorian against his side. “Kadan,” Bull said it softly enough that the rest of the Chargers tastefully followed Krem’s example and found the passing scenery suddenly mystifying.</p><p>“It isn’t over,” Dorian whispered. “It never is with them.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Bull replied. Dorian looked up at him; Bull’s resolute fondness shone back at him. “If it is or isn’t. None of us are going anywhere.” He gave Dorian’s freed hands a squeeze. Something settled in Dorian’s chest. “We’re in this together.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap! Fluff is so freaking hard to write. That said, Adoribull is still my OTP and I fucking love the Chargers so much.</p><p>The title is from the famous adage, but "The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker than the Water of the Womb" is an alternate, extended version of "blood is thicker than water" that postulates that bonds formed in life (such as on the battlefield) can be more important than the happenstance of birth. I am a huge fan of found family and so, **jazz hands**</p><p>Thanks for reading, and thanks again Apu for being such a wonderful BB partner!!</p>
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